


The Conscience of the King

by amosanguis



Series: Episode & Movie Tags/AUs [25]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Drabble Collection, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e13 The Conscience of the King, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 02:59:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4163097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amosanguis/pseuds/amosanguis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin leans back, folds his hands against the back of his head, and closes his eyes – letting Uhura’s voice wash through him as she sings about a faraway lover and the steady, heartbreaking passage of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kevin leans back, folds his hands against the back of his head, and closes his eyes – letting Uhura’s voice wash through him as she sings about a faraway lover and the steady, heartbreaking passage of time.

He smirks at himself before turning in his chair and reaching over abandoned food for his glass of milk – he knew better than to think that he, someone too long into space to remember what Earth looked or smelled like, would ever get _that_ kind of love.

He sips at his milk, thinking about the way the captain looks at Mr. Spock, and wonders.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What if you do decide that he is Kodos? What then?”

“What if you do decide that he is Kodos? What then?”

Jim fights the urge to put his head in his hands as he pushes away memories of blood, of thin, broken bodies.

“Will you parade down the halls with his head in your hands?”

Jim had met Kodos’s eyes once – they had been cold and unfeeling and they had pierced through him, cutting him into pieces and tearing away at his will.

“That won’t bring back the dead, Jim.”

“No,” Jim says, pretending he doesn’t hear the long ago screams of those rounded up, “but they may rest easier.”


End file.
